We Could Be Heroes
by youre-a-toaster
Summary: A group of random individuals gradually discover they have been given special abilities. While some are coming to terms with the changes others are already using theirs for destruction. Klaine and everything else in a whole big package.
1. Kurt

_A/N: So I started this story ages ago, but recently I've rewritten the first 9 chapters and properly planned out the whole plot in my head so I have more of a schedule to stick to. I'm sorry for the recent lack of updates but from now on this will be my priority. I hope you stick around :)_

_If you're completely new to this story, I welcome you and I hope you enjoy!_

_Main parings:_

_Kurt/Blaine_  
><em>SantanaBrittany_  
><em>TinaMike_  
><em>RachelPuck_  
><em>WillEmma_

_But anyway, the parings really aren't the best part of it all... You'll see!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: Kurt<strong>

* * *

><p>In the struggle for survival, the fittest win out at the expense of their rivals because they succeed in adapting themselves best to their environment. – Charles Darwin<p>

* * *

><p>There are eight main planets in our solar system, it is estimated there are a 100 thousand other stars in our galaxy alone, and then millions upon millions of other galaxies in the universe. Still, humans spend every day thinking they're changing the world for the better, where in reality the world will keep spinning no matter what we do. Our whole existence is built from atoms and cells and DNA and with 7 billion people on the planet, mistakes are bound to happen.<p>

Kurt Hummel is one of the first to be affected. He is a seemingly ordinary seventeen year old boy, nothing overly special about him other than his exceptional eye for the latest fashion trends and the ability to let his peers' homophobic slurs roll right off his back. Recently he had moved to Chicago so his father could be closer to his job. Kurt misses his friend, he misses his favourite coffee joint, hell, he'd even go as far to say he misses his old school.

"I'm just asking to borrow the car for a couple of days-"

"No, Kurt," Burt says firmly.

"Please! I'll fill up the gas tank and pay for any damages," he begs helplessly.

His father worries the inside of his cheek with his teeth. "The fact that you're even bringing up any idea of _damages _is going against you."

Kurt huffs in annoyance and purses his lips, sitting down and reaching across to his dad. "I'm a sensible driver, you know I am. I'll keep under the speed limits and stop regularly so I don't get into any accidents-"

"I know you're a sensible driver but I know how you are with Mercedes. You are so easily distracted I can't just... No, Kurt. That's final. I'm not letting you drive four and a half hours with no supervision."

"Then come with me?" Kurt offers, already knowing the answer.

Burt raises an eyebrow.

"This is so unfair! I didn't complain when we moved. I didn't say anything! All I'm asking is to spend a few days with my best friend and you're just…" Kurt feels the uncomfortable lump in his throat so he lets his voice trail off. He purses his lips together to stop them from shaking from how unreasonable his father is acting. He blinks, determined to hold his ground.

_Please dad, please, please, please. Let me borrow the car,_ he begs silently.

Kurt clears his throat and is about to start spewing off a list of reasons he should be allowed to go away for the week when Burt interrupts him.

"Fine, Kurt. Take the car. But I'm holding you to your word! Everything comes out of your bank account and I expect the tank to be full when you park it on back on the drive next Friday. Anything happens and you're grounded for a month. I want phone call updates whenever you stop."

Kurt doesn't have time to hide his shock and his mouth falls open slightly. He quickly closes it and nods his head vigorously, not really understanding where the change of heart has come from. "I promise."

"I mean it, Kurt-"

Kurt nods his head again, bouncing in his seat slightly and letting out an excited squeal before he can help himself. "Bank account. Gas tank. Friday. Got it!"

Burt bites his lips together and nods firmly, "Don't make me regret this, Kurt."

Kurt grins in reply and jumps up from his seat. He quickly hugs his father with another squeal, placing a kiss on his cheek before he runs into his room to have a ritual hour long Skype date with Mercedes, sharing the good news.

Once Kurt leaves the kitchen table, Burt is left alone. He frowns to himself and shakes his head clear, he tries to remember what he'd just agreed to, but he can't. He frowns towards the door Kurt had just left through and he looks back at the empty chair across from him. He reaches his hand up and takes off his baseball cap, rubbing his eyes with his fist before resting it on the table. _I'm just tired_, he thinks to himself before standing up and turning off the kitchen lights, ready to go to bed.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Reviews are like crack to me._


	2. Santana

**Chapter 2: Santana**

* * *

><p>Never underestimate the power of emotions. Let them build up and you might just explode.<p>

* * *

><p>Santana goes to an all-girl's boarding school on the outskirts of Virginia. Her parents had forced her into the transfer after they blamed her failing school grades on too many boys and late nights out. She kicked up a fuss, but her parents were set and so she had to pack her bags and her father drove her to the campus far away from home. She didn't know what to expect, but she definitely didn't expect this. She thought maybe she would turn up and see all the knee length skirts attached to stuck-up girls who look like they belong in a convent.<p>

Right now she sits in her calculus class. A girl in front or her turns around and tries to speak to her, but Santana gives her a glare and she shyly stops. Santana goes back to ignoring the teacher and doodling down the side of her notebook instead. She had decided when she walked through the doors of this hell-hole that before the end of semester her parents would be forced to transfer her back home. She purposely fails all her classes and hopes that soon the school will have no choice but to have her moved back.

It's fifteen minutes into the class and the door quietly opens and closes. Santana looks up and sees a blonde girl walk towards the teacher.

"Sorry I'm late," she says, not particularly sounding sorry at all.

Santana smirks at her lameness before putting her head down and continuing with her doodles.

The balding teacher takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Take your seat, Miss Pierce."

The girl looks around. "Someone's already sitting there," she observes.

Mr Woodstock sighs impatiently, "Then find another one."

"Where-"

"There's a spare seat next to Miss Lopez at the back," he interrupts.

Santana looks up at the mention of her name and sees the blonde girl's doe-eyed expression. She sighs and moves her bag from the table top to clear the area. The blonde girl smiles gratefully and makes her way towards the back of the class and gracefully slumps down in the empty seat.

"Brittany," the girl says quietly when the lesson has resumed.

"Huh?" Santana asks, looking up from her drawings.

She holds out her pinky finger as if she was asking for a handshake. "Brittany," she repeats, "my name..."

"Santana," she responds.

Brittany nods towards her extended finger and Santana raises an eyebrow, she uncertainly extends her own and they curl them together. Brittany smiles wide and Santana can't help the giant grin that covers her face as well. Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad, after all.

* * *

><p>"San, please listen to me!" Brittany repeatedly knocks on her dorm room door.<p>

Santana chokes back a sob. "Go away."

"Let me in! Please, San! Please," Santana can hear that Brittany, too, is almost in tears and her resolve nearly breaks.

"No, Brittany, go away!" she yells.

The knocking falters for a second and Santana doesn't know whether to be devastated or relieved. Before she has a chance to work it out, Brittany's knocks start again, more insistent than before.

"Santana! You can't be mad at me forever. It's not like I did anything wrong!"

Santana glares at the locked door as if its existence is a personal offence. "Didn't do anything wrong?" she yells. "You led me on! You sold me out!"

"That's not true! I didn't-"

"Didn't what?" Santana snaps. "Didn't know what you were doing? That's a lie! You may have everyone else convinced you can't even tie your own shoelaces but you don't fool me!"

"San, please," Brittany cries.

"Go away!" Santana screams and was finally met by silence from the other side of the door.

She balls her fists and scrunches her face to stop herself from opening to door and holding her Brittany in her arms as if her life depends of it. She stays still and silent as Brittany's sobs and hurried footsteps disappear down the hallway.

She collapses on her bed and finally let's all the tears she could possibly conjure soak her pillow.

She cries for what feels like hours. Her eyes sting, her throat is dry and her cheeks feel completely raw. Eventually though, the sadness is replaced with anger.

_She can't just do that!_ Santana mentally shouts at herself._ She can't kiss me and then act as if it was nothing! It was something._

"It was something!" she cries out loud, balling her hands into fists and repeatedly punching her pillow. "IT WAS SOMETHING!"

Santana stands up and anger completely blinds her. She's fuming. More furious than she's ever been in her whole life. She had fallen in love with Brittany, and if she couldn't have her, then some stupid boy definitely couldn't. She started pacing the floor, fury boiling in the pit of her stomach making her hit and kick aside everything in her path. For three months she had felt like this. For three months Brittany had led her on. She had turned her grades around, put the effort in so she could stay here, stay here with Brittany.

"And for what?" Santana screams.

Santana stumbles back and falls over. Fire had sparked out of the palms of her hands. Real fire. She screams and stands up, trying desperately to shake it off. It grows bigger instead. Sparks begin to ignite the carpet from where her hands have just been. Her breath quickens.

"Help," she tries to shout but it comes out as no more than a whisper.

She soon realises that for some reason the fire isn't burning her, the objects around her are singeing and turning to ash, but on her skin it feels lukewarm.

"Help," she repeats again, spellbound by her hands.

She notices the fire spread even more, the books on the lowest shelves have been set ablaze and she watches as her duvet goes up in a bright glow. Too fast, she thinks. It's too fast.

She's too afraid to move, too afraid to touch anything else because the fire is now shooting from her palms at its own accord. She clasps her hands together but it makes it worse. As Santana pulls her arms back to her sides and a thick string of fire hangs between them. Her breathing quickens as panic swells in her chest, tears blur her vision while the string of fire transforms into a sphere.

The thin air is no longer satisfactory enough for her lungs and she passes out in a burning heap on the floor.


	3. Rachel

**Chapter 3: Rachel**

* * *

><p>If you ask people what they think of Rachel Berry, what will they say? The words 'pompous', 'irritating' and 'attention whore' will probably be thrown around quite a bit. But Rachel Berry - the <em>real <em>Rachel Berry - is so much more than that. There is a reason people would say those things about her, there is a reason that maybe she tries a little too hard and pushes her expectations of herself a little too far. The reason is that she can hear what other people are thinking: she hears their secrets and their dreams, their wishes and their fears. She hears how two-faced and deceiving people can be, even the ones you'd least expect it from. She hears the whole of her high school and the people around her in all their back-stabbing glory. The first time she noticed it was in tenth grade.

Rachel walks down the hallway by herself. Her dads have just moved to the area and so she hasn't had time to settle down and make new friends just yet. She adjusts her favourite green plaid skirt as she walks; it's twisted from where her shoulder bag has been rubbing against it. She holds the strap of her bag with both hands close to her chest, her head is held high as she pretends to herself that she can fit in at this new school.

As she walks, the toe of her pump catches on the edge of one of the floor's linoleum tiles. She stumbles and squeaks but quickly finds her footing. Hoping the pink tinge in her cheeks isn't too obvious, she flicks her hair with her hand, brushes her cardigan down and continues as if nothing had happened.

"What an idiot," she hears someone say. She bites her lips together and lowers her head slightly, casually quickening her pace to get away from the attention she's drawn to herself.

"Holy crap, her nose is huge," she hears someone else say. She turns her head and frowns in the direction she'd heard the comment. Fair enough to say she's clumsy, but she sees absolutely no reason to bring her appearance into it. The group she's glaring at seem completely unfazed, they don't give her a second glance and Rachel can't quite believe what she'd just heard.

She peels her eyes away and continues walking. "What the hell is she wearing? My grandma has better taste."

She snaps her head around to the other side to see who had said it. She doesn't see anyone she can suspect, no one looking like they're having a cosy pre-lesson bitching session. Everyone simply looks like they're visiting their lockers for their supplies and then leaving.

She continues walking. "If I had a face like that, I don't think I'd bother to wake up in the morning." Rachel spins around again and again finds no suitable culprit. She continues walking a bit faster and ignores the tightening in her throat and the stinging in her eyes from the impending tears. She clutches her bag tighter to her chest and feels her nails start to dig in to her skin. She swallows and takes a calming breath, loosening her grip before she draws blood.

She collides into something solid and stumbles back. She sees what she walked into and a boy with bright red hair stares back at her, looking as flustered as she feels.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"No, it was my fault," she brushes aside his half-hearted apology.

He thins his lips and gives her a slight nod of his head before retaking and brushing past her.

"I don't know what it is, but she's already annoying me," Rachel hears him say.

She's had enough. She turns and pulls his arm slightly so he's facing her. "If you have something to say, say it to my face," she says, trying to sound a lot braver and more assertive than she actually feels.

"Uh... Sorry?" He asks.

Rachel feels anger and annoyance bubble up inside her. She glares at the redhead. "If you have something to say, say it to my face," she repeats with her voice a lot stronger.

"Okay, this bitch is crazy," Rachel hears him say.

Here is where there is a slight problem, though. Rachel is staring pretty intently at the boy and yet she doesn't see his mouth move. She let's go of his arm as though it's burned her and takes a step back. She swallows, even though her throat is completely dry.

"You okay?" He asks with a raised eyebrow. This time she does see his lips move, and she replies with a jerky nod. "Thank god, I don't think I could deal with taking her to the nurse's office. Too bad, though. I would kinda like to skip math. Maybe I'll do that anyway." Rachel feels sick. He definitely didn't move his lips that time. The boy raises his eyebrow a little higher and tilts his head. "This chick is weird." He neutralises his features and then gives her a small smile, brushing past her for a second time.

Rachel steps back until she feels her back meet the cold metal lockers. She takes a deep breath to calm herself. She looks around and takes in the emptying corridor and it hits her like a freight train.

"Why does no one notice me?"

"-You're a complete bitch, I'm only talking to you so I can go to your party-"

"-If oranges are called 'oranges', why aren't bananas called 'yellows'?"

"-I should not have had that curry for dinner last night-"

"-I didn't notice this before, why the hell am I dating a guy who looks like a potato?"

"_I wanna be the very best, that no one ever was. To catch them all is my real test, to train them is my cause-"_

"-Ha. Ha. Ha. Yeah, I hate you-"

"-Oh no, what if someone heard me think that? What if someone hears me think this? ...Cough if you're hearing me think this... See? I'm so paranoid, there's no such thing as telepathy-"

The voices get louder and louder and Rachel brings her palms up to her ears. She fists her hair and tries to drown out the noise but the action makes no difference whatsoever. They're still there. Hundreds of them are talking over one another: incoherent ramblings, song lyrics, threats... Anything and everything, every niggling thought that people are too afraid to say out loud is making itself known inside Rachel's head.

She sees the girl's bathroom on the opposite wall and runs inside, quickly locking the cubicle before her knees hit the cold tile floor. She holds the side of the toilet bowl and heaves out the little food in her stomach. She takes the rest of the day off.

Over the years, Rachel has found it getting easier. She wouldn't say she was used to it, not at all; she still hoped that every day she would wake up and her mind would belong just to herself again, but it never happens. So Rachel has learnt how to use it, how to pick out one voice and follow it for a while, finding out useful information - which is often rare - or mostly just some good blackmail material if that's ever the case.

Of course it has changed her. She uses her ability to push herself. She hears what people think of her, what her fathers want of her, what her teachers expect of her, and she uses it to try and exceed. There are some things you simply can't change though. Rachel has realised that if people don't want to like you, they won't. No amount of hearing their thoughts would change that.


	4. Brittany

**Chapter 4: Brittany**

* * *

><p>Brittany curls up on her bed, still fully dressed under her covers, and watches The Matrix. She usually hates any sort of violence in films; she sometimes struggles to even sit through The Lion King on her own because she finds it too upsetting. Right now though, she doesn't care. She lets the sound of gun shots and explosions drown out the sound of her sobbing and the impressive stunts distract her from the sinking, aching, twisting feeling of guilt and sadness in her stomach.<p>

A woman jumps through a window and men chase after her and Brittany lets her mind begin to wander back to what brought her here, anyway. Maybe she had led Santana on, but she never meant to. She loves her and even though it's not in the way she wants, couldn't it be enough for the both of them, just for a little while? Her eyes flutter shut eventually and the sound of violence becomes a soothing sort of lullaby for her.

Brittany is woken after what could be a minute or an hour by a loud ringing. She sits up and her sleepy brain registers that the ringing if from the fire alarm. She feels smoke slowly seep into her lungs, thicker and thicker with every breath and so she quickly gets out of bed. Grabbing her Vans and sliding them on, she opens the door and hot air engulfs her lungs, burning the insides. The corridor is in complete disarray. No matter how many times they're forced to practice the fire drill, nothing truly prepares them. People are shoving and running down the hallway, trying their best to get away from the smoke as quickly as possible. Brittany desperately looks at everyone, she's urgent to see the tan skin and the dark hair but she can't see it in the dispersing crowd.

She looks left and right as panic starts to boil in her throat. She looks left again - towards the heaviest smoke - and runs. She runs into people running the other way and they try and drag her with them but she pushes them away. A teacher is trying to get order and grabs her hand, forcefully pulling her back the other way. She screams and tries to break free.

"It's all going to be okay," the teacher she barely recognises says loudly over the commotion.

"LET GO OF ME!"

"This way, young lady!"

Brittany realises he's paying no attention to her whatsoever, out of fury she quickly breaks free by punching him sharply in the ribs. He falls back, winded.

"Fuck you!" he spits, stumbling away and helping the other students.

Eventually there's no one left in her way and she turns the corner. She can barely see through the thick air and she coughs, gasping for freshness, and covers her mouth with her sleeve.

"Santana!" she screams as she reaches door she wants. She feels as though she's about to throw up, the smoke is seeping in thick clouds from under the door frame. She reaches her hand out and shakes the handle, ignoring how hot it is. It's still locked.

"Santana!" She cries. "Santana! Santana! Santana!" She tries to keep hold of the handle, tries to keep forcing the door open but the handle is metal and Brittany can feel the heat shredding up her skin and it becomes too much to ignore. She doesn't care. All she cares about is the girl trapped inside.

Tears are streaming down her face but drying out before they can make tracks. She stands back and takes a deep breath almost forgetting the air is full of smoke as she charges forward and jumps at the door with her leg extended. The door falls clean off its hinges and Brittany stumbles, she tries to stop herself from wondering where she learnt to do that.

She waits a second for the smoke to disperse and push through the doorframe. She sees flames licking the walls and furniture and her heart turns to ice. Santana is lying on the floor and Brittany feels her stomach jump up her throat with relief as she rushes towards her. She feels Santana's shallow breathing as Brittany picks her up with surprising ease. She holds her awkwardly as she tries to open the window. It's locked. She sobs helplessly before wrapping her fist with her sleeve and throwing her arm forward. The glass shatters after the first attempt and she gasps in the fresh air while scooping Santana once again in her arms.

She manages to perch them both on the windowsill. Santana's limp legs slip and Brittany almost loses her balance. She holds the other girl tighter before making her decision. Brittany jumps from the second story window, glad that unlike her room, Santana's overlooks the playing fields so they land on grass instead on concrete. She cradles Santana to her chest as her weak body follows Brittany's and they both roll into the landing.

Brittany hears the sound of fire engines from the far side of the school and looks up in time to see the gutter outside Santana's window fall down. She rolls them both over and it lands where they were a second before. Without hesitating, she jumps up, pulling Santana with her and throwing her carefully over her shoulder and runs towards the forest on the other side of the fields just as the wall crumbles down.


	5. Lucy

**Chapter 5: Lucy**

* * *

><p>Lucy Quinn Fabray: celibacy club president, head cheerleader and favourite for Prom Queen. She leads a somewhat sheltered life, her demands are met almost instantly, no fuss, no muss, and, most importantly, no <em>no<em>. Lucy always gets her own way. As a child she was spoilt with the best toys and grew up with the most fashionable outfits, the word 'no' is barely in her vocabulary. If she wants something, she gets it.

It's an accident when it happens. Of course she doesn't mean to kill them. She has no idea. She is angry and frustrated that she isn't allowed to go to New York with her boyfriend for a summer vacation. She shuts herself up in her room and screams loudly, waiting for her parents to come upstairs and tell her they've changed their mind. Sure, she knows throwing temper tantrums is juvenile, but in a house where communication is almost extinct, sometimes it's necessary to be heard.

They never come.

Lucy begins to get tired of screaming and becomes even more annoyed that she's been ignored. Her throat is dry and feels as though it's been shredded. She takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. Gritting her teeth and clenching her fists, she throws open the door, making it hit the adjoining wall with a crack. She angrily makes her way downstairs, well prepared to get her own way.

Her foot touches the bottom step and she knows something is wrong. It's not anything she can see or hear, but her face falls and her jaw relaxes as she feels a tingling on her neck and a tightening in her stomach. An eerie silence has fallen on the house, there's not the usual debate from her mother and father from the next room. Pure silence. The door to the lounge is still shut form when she slammed it not so long ago. She walks towards it and puts her hand on the handle, too afraid, but not sure why, to open it just yet.

Slowly, she pushes open the door, her heart is thudding erratically in her rib cage, a trail of ice runs down her spine. From a glance the room looks empty but Lucy knows they're in there. She takes a few steps inside, breathing deeply to try and calm her erratic heartbeat. The sight that meets her eyes as she peers over the couch makes her turn and throw up the almost empty content of her stomach onto the floor. Her knees give way and she struggles to breathe. She looks again.

Blood.

So much blood. It completely cascades over the carpet they'd had fitted a month ago. It seeps into the air so she can taste the saltiness in her lungs. Her parents are somewhere there. She sees two figures on the couch, gripping each other's hands with pale, bony fingers. Neither really resembles the people she knew, instead sunken corpses, stark white with their blood painted over the room. She can't look anymore and she stumbles back to the door, her fingers hurting from the force with which she's grasping the handle.

She doesn't know how exactly, but she knows she is the one responsible. She eventually turns and lets her back slide down the door, collapsing in a pile at the bottom, breathing deeply, trying to clear her head. She can't stay here; that much is obvious. She needs to get as far away as possible. Far away from this house, her friends, and anything resembling humanity. She jumps up and stumbles up the stairs, her mind spinning and her vision threatening to blur from tears. First she goes into her parent's room. Luckily, they had never completely trusted the banking system and so kept a lot of money hidden around their house. She opens her mother's wardrobe and pushes aside the beautiful dresses still smelling of her perfume, feeling the back for the loose panel and pulling it away to reveal the safe. She quickly punches in the code and it clicks open. She reaches down and pucks up one of her mother's Jean Paul Gaultier bags, empting the contents of the safe inside.

Without a backwards glance, she knows what she has to do, she runs. She sprints down the stairs to the front door, bashing her thigh on a table in the corner. When she's out the door, she runs to the end of her road, it's past midnight, so the suburban streets are practically deserted. She tears through the darkness, past closed coffee shops and bars making their last call, past houses and schools. Her blood is pounding violently in her ears making her feel dizzy but she still doesn't stop.

She keeps on running until her legs feel as though they're going to be ripped from the rest of her body. She keeps on running, not stopping for anything, her throat is completely dry and her breath is frozen. Only after hours of sprinting past unfamiliar buildings and unknown signposts does she even considers slowing down.

After hours, buildings around her become less and less frequent, she occasionally passes a gas station or a lone house, she slows when she can see no buildings or landmarks in either direction, allowing her to catch her breath for a couple of minutes before continuing. Hunger eventually wins out and she's forced to stop at a 24 hour diner before moving on again. By the time the sun comes up, she's completely exhausted. She wipes the sweat from her forehead and clasps her bag close to her chest, wishing she'd brought water with her. When she passes a motel on the highway she's walking down, she almost has no choice but to go inside, get a room, and sleep.


	6. Tina

**Chapter 6: Tina**

* * *

><p>Tina Cohen-Chang admires the outfit her mother has left out for her, her lip turns up in disgust. The main thing she hates about the many social events she's forced into by her parents with the rest of their friends in the Asian community is the God-awful clothes she's made to wear. This one is no different. It's black though, which is at least some sort of improvement.<p>

She moves to stand in front of her mirror and takes a makeup wipe out of a packet she keeps in the top drawer and gets to work on ridding the gothic look. When all the eyeliner is removed, she moves back to the foot of her bed, stripping off her own clothes and putting on the dreaded outfit. She swears to herself that whenever she has children, they will not be subjected to the nightmare that is these dinners.

When she thinks she looks presentable enough, she heads downstairs. Her mother is clasping a necklace around her sister neck.

"Have you showered?" her mother asks, not looking up from the fiddly contraption.

"I'm clean," Tina states, avoiding the question.

"Go and shower," her mother urges. "You have time before we have to leave."

Tina purses her lips and turns on her heels, heading back upstairs. She grumbles to herself as she closes her bedroom door, stripping off the dress and heading into her small en suite bathroom.

She turns the shower on and let's it warm up while she fetches a clean towel from the cupboard. Tina has to have her showers when the water is almost scalding and so she waits until steam is clouding the air before stepping under the rush of water. She takes her time washing and conditioning her hair with her favourite lemon shampoo. She cleans thoroughly behind her ears and under her nails, all the little areas that her mother would no doubt notice if Tina were to overlook them.

She eventually shuts off the water and steps out the shower, grabbing her towel and wrapping it around herself. Suddenly, the heat from the room becomes too much for her and she starts to feel light-headed. She opens the door back to her bedroom and steps out, trying to let the hot air disperse. It still doesn't make her feel better. She begins to feel her eyes flutter shut and she blindly reaches for her bed and collapses onto it.

She stands in a street and she recognises some of the buildings from TV: she's in New York. A boy stands in front of her. Although the word 'boy' doesn't really fit the description. He's somewhere in the stages of being a youth and man. Tina has never met him before but she knows his name: Mike Chang. She also knows that she's in love with him.

"We have to help them," he says, his eyebrows raise in concern.

"Mike, it's dangerous–"

"They're our friends," he urges. "Or at least… They will be. Tina, you see it and I've been there, they need us. They can't do this alone, we need to all do this together. If it's not all of us together then they'll win."

"But our homes… our families…"

Mike cups her face gently and they share a kiss. Tina feels her lips mould to his but he pulls away and rests his forehead on hers.

"If we don't go, there'll be nothing left for us here," he says softly

They look at each other with love and adoration. They're both in way over their heads but it's true: they have to help the strangers who are destined to be friends. They have to go together. Tina feels her throat tighten but she gives Mike a small nod.

"Don't let go," Mike says, pulling her hands around his neck and holding her waist.

Tina's vision comes back to her and her head clears. She blinks rapidly, trying to understand what just happened.

"Tina! Ten minutes!" her mother calls up to her room, making her jump and forget about what just happened. She begins quickly drying and dressing again and attempting to do something with her soaking wet hair while fastening her locket around her neck.

She runs downstairs with a minute to spare, looking somewhat presentable.

"Beautiful," her father states, giving her a peck on the cheek.

Her mother smiles proudly at her and they all clamber in the car. Tina puts on the face she always uses for these kind of events: sweet, innocent, respectable and ordinary.

The four of them sit in silence for the journey and Tina lets out a breath of relief when they arrived outside the Liu's. They get out the car and Tina's parents walk up to the door. Tina waits with her sister, Jessica, while she re-ties her shoe. Jess stands up and brushes down her dress, it's almost identical to Tina's but has longer sleeves and more bows. Tina holds the hand of her younger sister and they make their way after their parents.

"Tina," Mrs Liu smiles at her as she reaches the door. "Come in, you look well. How's school? Here, I'll take that from you. Jessica, my you've grown. Go on girls, go on in. Charlotte's through there. Charlotte!"

Before either girl has a chance to respond, their bags have been hung up in the hallway and they are ushered into a room full of people.

"I'm bored already," Jess mumbles to her.

Tina smiles and pulls her along to the other side of the room where she sees Charlotte looking as fed up as they feel. Her face lights up when she sees them and she pulls Tina into a hug.

"Thank God you're here. They've been gossiping for over half an hour and I already feel like chopping my ears off." She strokes Jess' head and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before sneaking her some food from the untouched buffet table.

Jess thanks her politely before munching her way through the handful of crackers.

They continue their idle chatter until people start making their way over and helping themselves to food, the three retreat to the other side of the room.

Tina starts to feel the tingling on the back of her neck that you get when you know someone is watching you. She ignores it and tries to concentrate on Charlotte's conversation. Jess eventually takes over and Tina lets her attention wander. She casually looks around the room but most people are too engrossed in their own conversations to notice her. She turns her head farther and she finally sees him. He's having a conversation with a boy she vaguely recognises - Aaron, Tina remembers - he looks over Aaron's shoulder and their eyes meet.

A small smile graces both their lips, showing the whites of their teeth as they look at each other for the first ever time but knowing exactly who the other is.

_Oh, there you are._


	7. Santana and Brittany

**Chapter 7: Santana and Brittany**

* * *

><p>Santana holds back Brittany's hair as she empties the contents of her stomach by the edge of the forest clearing. Brittany's insides still feel like they're on fire and it aches to draw breath. Her throat is like ash and she can still feel the smoke suffocating her lungs.<p>

"I need water," she croaks.

Santana looks around helplessly, tears falling freely down her cheeks. "I don't… there is none." Santana sobs quietly and Brittany puts on a brave face for her. She spits the remaining acid from her throat and tries her best to stand up straight. It still hurts but she tries not to wince.

"It's okay," Brittany comforts lamely.

Somehow the smoke and fire had no impact on the Latina girl whatsoever. Her skin is as smooth and unblemished as ever, her breathing is normal and her clothes look untouched, even so, she seems worse off from the whole situation. Brittany doesn't question it.

"I'm so sorry Britt," Santana whimpers as they start walking through the thick forest again, having no real idea of where they were going.

Brittany smiles weakly and links their pinkie fingers together, she rests her head on Santana's shoulder for a moment while they walk lazily. "It's not your fault," her voice is a rasp.

Santana's hiccups subside as they walk in silence, only the night wildlife and the twigs beneath their feet making any real noise. Eventually exhaustion hits them both; they silently agree that they've done enough walking for the night and slump down beside a tree the width of three people. The floor is uncomfortable and damp, the bark of the tree scratches their back. Shivers fly through both of them, even as they curl towards each other to share body heat. They realise that they won't get to sleep.

"I'm really good at origami," Brittany whispers through chattered teeth.

Santana raises an eyebrow at the random outburst, but doesn't interrupt. She becomes transfixed by the misty condensation that escapes Brittany's lips when she talks.

"I was watching a TV show ages ago. I was ill and I couldn't be bothered to change the channel over so I spent an hour and a half watching this guy making origami. It wasn't like… normal origami. He wasn't making boats or cranes. He was making exotic creatures. Insects, dragons… Leaves that looked like they were taken from a forest, still living, still growing."

Santana no longer feels cold, she doesn't feel tired or achy, she's completely hypnotised by hearing Brittany talk like this. The wildlife that surrounded them appeared even to fall into silence as they listened to the blonde girl.

"It wasn't something anyone was expected to be able to just copy," Brittany continued. "The guy was about eighty, he'd dedicated his whole life to creating things from paper. I was completely amazed by the folds and the curves of the paper, I watched the whole thing," she swallows hard, an act which Santana realises takes a lot of effort. "A few weeks later I was back at school – my old school – and I was sitting in history class, just letting the lecture wash over my head while I only absorbed some of the information. I pulled a piece of paper from my notepad and I started folding. I wasn't even concentrating on it, but… I saw a guy just staring at my hands, eyes wide, so I looked down and in front of me was an origami dragon. Exactly like the one the guy made on TV. He gave me $50 for it."

Santana feels her eyebrows knit together, Brittany's eyes still bore into hers like her life depends on it.

"The other day I was watching free running videos on Youtube," she continues quietly. "And now I can jump thirty feet without a scratch."

They stay silent for so long, Santana starts to think Brittany has fallen asleep, she only knows by the way she lies too still that she isn't.

"I started that fire with my hands," Santana barely breaths the words, but Brittany hears.

"I know," she replies as though commenting on what they were having for dinner.

"We're not going back, are we?"

Brittany opens her eyes and looks at her best friend as if she's seeing her for the first time. She weighs her up in her mind and whatever she was trying to work out is resolved. "I think someone did this to us," she frowns.

"Where will we go?" Santana asks, not defensively, she's already on board.

"I don't know but there are two of us, we can't be the only ones, there's got to be more."

"Why would someone do this to us?" Santana asks, not expecting an answer.

They eventually fall into a restless sleep, shivering against each other from the damp seeping through their clothes.

* * *

><p>"Knock, knock," Santana asks, breaking the silence as they walk hand in hand under the canopy of trees. The sun occasionally bursts through the leaves above, leaving the girls to admire the natural beauty surrounding them.<p>

Brittany grins. "Who's there?"

"Dishes."

"Dishes who?"

"Dishes a bad joke," Santana finishes with a small smile.

Brittany throws her head back with a laugh. A real, hearty laugh. A laugh that hadn't been shared between the two girls in the days they'd been walking. It's like the cloud of doom that had engulfed them since they first ran completely disappears, letting them be the two teenagers that they are.

"Knock, knock," Brittany chirps in response.

"Who's there?" Santana bites her lip to stifle her laugh.

"Interrupting starfish."

"Interrupting starfish wh-"

They both squeal with delight as Brittany tackles Santana to the floor with her hand extended.

"See, my hand's the starfish," Brittany explains as they both double over with laughter.

Santana is about to respond when she hears something too close for comfort, she quickly puts her hand over Brittany's mouth to suppress her laughter, her own expression hard. Brittany's eyes widen with fear as she hears it as well: branches cracking under heavy, languid footsteps.

Santana presses her finger to her lips, indicating to Brittany that they both need to stay silent, before reaching for her hand and slowly and as quietly as possible standing up and hiding behind the biggest tree they can see near them. They hear the movement get closer and Santana takes a step back from Brittany.

The blonde girl shakes her head with wide, fearful eyes. "No!" she mouths.

Santana takes another step back and holds a fist in front of her, as her hand unclenches a small ball of fire sits on her palm. She hears the footsteps and whoever they belong to get closer, just on the other side of the tree. She quickly jumps to the side and shoots her palm at the culprit. She hears a scream and Santana falls to the floor, hands over her ears, her head pounding.


	8. Kurt pt2

**Chapter 8: Kurt**

* * *

><p>He hates to admit it, but Kurt still finds it a little hard to be back in Ohio. He was bullied here to the extreme. Taunted every day at school. Taunted for being who he was and loving who he wanted. Still, it was worth being back because at least he gets to see Mercedes.<p>

The train of thought makes him press the call button again on his phone, he presses it to his ear as it goes straight to answer phone.

"You haven't reached Mercedes, I'm probably busy but I'll get back to you when I can. Leave a message."

"'Cedes, where the hell are you? We arranged to meet an hour ago. Call me back."

He finishes the last of his coffee, throws the empty cup in the bin next to him and holds the one he ordered for Mercedes closer to his chest to keep it warm. He leaves another four messages for his best friend before panic starts to really bubble in his stomach.

He dials the number again. "You haven't reached Mercedes, I'm probab-"

Kurt hangs us the phone with a frown, throwing Mercedes' now cold coffee in the bin, too, before taking off down the road.

It's only a short stroll and he's walking past his old house, round the corner, he stands outside Mercedes'.

He walks up the familiar concrete path. Embedded by the front steps are his and Mercedes handprints from when they were kids and the garden was redone. He knocks and the door opens soon after.

"Raymond," Kurt grins in greeting. "How are you?"

Mercedes' brother looks at him blankly.

Kurt frowns. "Is your sister in?" He attempts to look around him down the hallway.

He's met with the same blankness, Raymond moves slightly, not letting Kurt see inside.

"Everything alright, Ray?" Kurt presses.

"Sorry, do I know you?"

Kurt laughs lightly. His face freezes and falls to a frown shortly after. "What are you talking about?" He shakes his head clear. "Seriously. Where's Mercedes? I was supposed to meet her almost two hours ago and she hasn't shown."

Raymond moves to shut the door but Kurt reaches out to stop him.

"Raymond, are you listening to me? Your sister has gone!"

"Listen dude, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," he confesses.

Kurt looks at him with exasperation.

"Now's not the time for jokes. Where's Mercedes?"

Raymond frowns. "I have no idea who Mercedes is. I have no idea who you are. Why are you here?"

"I'm your sister's best friend."

"I don't have a sister!" Raymond interrupts angrily.

"Yes you do!" Kurt snaps. "Her birthday is February 15th. She goes McKinley High school. Your mom got pissed off at us when we put our handprints in the wet concrete! I came to your 21st birthday party last year wearing a kilt and bought you a pair of Vivienne Westwood cufflinks… You've got them on now!" he adds angrily.

Raymond looks down at his sleeves. He is, in fact, wearing the gift Kurt bought him but no sense of recollection crosses his features.

"I think you'd better leave now," Raymond squares up, an invitation into his house the last thing on his mind.

"Raymond-"

"I don't know how you know my name but I think it would be best of you not to show your face around here again unless you want your ass kicked." With that, the door is slammed in front of him. Kurt stumbles a step back in disbelief.

He squares his jaw and fishes out his phone.

"You haven't reached Merce-"

Kurt hangs up immediately and clenches his fist around his phone so hard it hurts. He walks away from her house and picks up his pace as he runs to the park they used to hand out at after school. It's exactly how it had always been. He takes a few calming breaths and sits down on their usual before dialling for his father.

Burt answers after two rings. "Hummel Tires and Lube, how can I help?"

"Dad, something weird is happening," Kurt sobs.

"Excuse me?"

"Mercedes hasn't shown up. Her phone is off. I went round her house and her brother was acting completely crazy. It was like he didn't know I existed. I'm really worried something has happened to her."

"Who is this?" his father asks crossly down the phone.

"Dad, don't do this! I'm Kurt Hummel. Your son! My mother was Elizabeth Hummel and she died seven years ago."

"Whoever you are, this isn't funny! I'd appreciate it if you don't call here again."

"Dad, don't–!"

The dial tone rings in his ear and a sob wrecks through his body.


	9. Puck

_A/N: So, long time, no update! I apologise from the bottom of my heart! But I promise updates will be more frequent from now on. *Touch wood* my writers block seems to have disappeared and even though I still have work/college, I should be able to do more writing again!_

_If you're carrying on from reading this months ago, I should tell you that I've re-edited pretty much all the chapters. You don't have to re-read them again if you don't want, but I did add quite a bit to the story here and there. Oh and Chapter 8 is all new and replaced so definitely go read that one._

_Much love :D_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9: Puck<strong>

* * *

><p>You're alone in a room; maybe you're fixing yourself a drink, having a shower, getting dressed... You feel a tingling on the back of your neck as if someone is watching you. You know you're alone, but you still look around. There's no one there.<p>

Except that there is.

Rachel waits after gym until everyone else has left the girl's locker room. She prefers getting dressed without hearing what everyone else thinks. She can still hear them when they're not in the room, but it makes it much easier for her to drown out the private taunting of classmates and worries of eating disorders.

She sighs and rubs her temple. Headaches had become a regular occurrence to her over the past year and a half. She digs her palms into her eyes and little flashes of light dance behind her lids. Pulling her hands away, she blinks and shakes her head.

She goes to her locker and pulls out her normal clothes. She slides off her shoes and puts them in the locker before tugging her polo shirt over her head.

"Hot damn, who's this little thing?"

Rachel clutches the shirt to her chest and spins around. She sees no one.

"Why's are you stopping?" the male voice asks.

Rachel looks around and checks the other side of the room between the lockers and door. Still no one. She glares into the emptiness. "Who's there?" she asks, feeling quite stupid asking the blank space in front of her.

"Is she talking to me? That is not possible," the voice speaks again.

She moves towards the direction of the sound. "It's possible," Rachel says bravely. "Who's there?"

"Wait, can you _see_ me?"

Rachel looks around the room again but it's completely deserted. "No," she says shyly.

"Can you hear me?"

Rachel nervously swallows but her throat is dry. "Who's there?"

"No freakin' way!"

"Show yourself," she demands, glaring at a space eye level between the bench and the lockers. She almost screams when a figure appears as if from nowhere just to the right of where she's looking.

"How the hell do you do that?" the mohawked boy asks.

"Do what?" Rachel responds, trying to get over the shock while very aware she still isn't fully clothed. She protectively makes sure she's holding her shirt in front of her so she's modestly covered.

"You heard what I was thinking!"

Rachel purses her lips. "How did you... do whatever it was you just did?"

"Become invisible?" he asks, his mouth doesn't move.

"You don't have to test me.."

"It's a gift, I guess," he thinks.

Rachel bites her lips. "Is that what you think this is?" she asks sadly.

He raises an eyebrow at her, "You don't?"

Rachel's expression turns hard. "I think it's hell."

He looks at her as though he can see straight through her. She doesn't bother to listen to what he's thinking. Suddenly he laughs. "It can't possibly be that bad. All the dirty secrets you can hear? It must feel like Christmas every day."

Rachel glares at him. "Just because I don't use this... whatever it is - to spy on people at their most vulnerable, unlike you, you sick son of a bitch."

"Hey that's not fair," he defends, "you've never met my mother. She's quite lovely."

Rachel furrows her brows and looks at him curiously. "Whatever... Can you- um - can you turn around so I can get changed? ...Please."

He holds his arms up in defeat before turning around. For good measure, he brings his hands to his eyes to prove he's not peeking

Rachel doesn't bother to put her everyday clothes on, she just pulls her gym shirt over her head again. Luckily she hadn't done much that lesson and so it isn't in any sort of state.

"Done," she says after checking herself one more time.

He turns to face her again. "What's your name?" he asks, cocking his head to the side.

"Rachel Berry," she says proudly, standing straighter and jutting her chin up slightly. "What's yours?"

"Puck."

"Puck? Is that...?"

"Just Puck," he shrugs.

Rachel presses her lips together. "Right. Well, it was nice to meet you, Puck." She turns on her heels to leave.

"Wait, that's it?" Puck raises an eyebrow and she turns back around. "I don't know about you, but this isn't an everyday occurrence to me."

"What, sneaking into the girls' locker room?"

"No. No, I mean _this_. You can... You can hear inside my head."

"And you can turn invisible," Rachel shrugs as if they are discussing the weather.

"And that's perfectly normal to you?"

Rachel glares daggers at him and walks towards him, making him step back until he's trapped by the lockers. "Listen, Puck. I don't know what this is. I don't know why I can do it, and I don't really care. Do you want to know what I care about? I care about school. I care about my grades and I care about my dads and my future. Why bother stressing over the fact that I'm a... a _freak_? It won't change anything. So it was nice meeting you, but I have to get going."

Maybe it's because Puck is attracted to power, maybe it's because she's standing so close to him that he can smell her perfume and count the freckles on her nose. He doesn't know why, but he reaches his hand out and runs it through her hair, pulling her lips to his. Once she responds, it's desperate and angry. Rachel fists her hand in the boy's mohawk as they furiously devour each other's mouths and battle for dominance. Puck has never met a girl who kisses quite like Rachel. He could happily get very used to it.

"Is someone in here?" A voice comes from the door behind the lockers.

Rachel squeaks quietly as she pulls apart from Puck. He doesn't let her get far, he wraps his arm around her waist to hold her close and uses the other one to cover her mouth. Rachel feels ice water dripping down her spine. The sensation spreads quickly through her whole body, from her forehead to her tiptoes, until she feels as though she's jumped in a lake mid-winter.

They both stay silent as they see the gym teacher pokes her head around the lockers, checking if there's anyone there. She doesn't see Puck or Rachel and she leaves with a frown. Puck keeps hold of Rachel until he's sure they're alone and then lets go. Warmth flows back into Rachel's bones and she shivers at the feeling.

"Well, that was lucky," Puck says. "I've never done that before."

Rachel stares at him in slight amazement.

"Come with me," Puck says eventually.

Rachel raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"I've been thinking about it ever since I realised I could… And now I found you!"

"Where could we go?"

Puck grabs her hands pleadingly. "I don't know, Rachel, but... what if we're not the only ones?"

"Puck-"

"No, what if we were given these... these powers, these abilities, whatever you want to call it... for a reason? What if this is like... our destiny?"

"What could we possibly do?" Rachel laughs. "Run away with a circus? There's nothing we can do."

"What if you're wrong?"

Rachel frowns. "What if I'm _not_?" she retorts. "Besides, I don't even know you."

Puck drops her hands and lightly grabs her by the shoulders. He moves her so they're standing farther apart. "Read me, I'm an open book."

Rachel worries her lip in consideration before rolling her eyes.

"Trust me," he thinks.

"And where will we go?" Rachel asks with a sigh. Puck beams at her in response.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Reviews = crack._


	10. Mike

_A/N: I'm a bad person. Sorry! Writer's block and then sdflkjgasldfjgslbjsdf... I have more chapters written that I'll put up soon. But honestly, I do still plan on completing this story!_

_Happy reading :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10: Mike<strong>

* * *

><p>He can't remember what exactly it was that made him open his eyes and sit up. There was no sound of an intrusion or anything at all out of the ordinary to make him suddenly wake up at 3:23am on a Friday morning. Mike sighs in frustration for the third time as he rolls over once again in an attempt to fall back to sleep. It's another attempt in vain. He eventually gives up and throws the covers off himself, standing up and stretching tall, as he decides to go down to the kitchen for something to drink.<p>

He creeps downstairs trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake up his parents. He turns the kitchen lights on, cursing lightly when the sudden transition to brightness makes his head throb and he turns them off again. He rubs the heel of his hand over his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose while walking over to the fridge and grabbing the carton of milk. Mike's grip tightens around the carton when he feels a tingling on the back of his neck. There's someone behind him. He turns quickly, shutting the fridge door and holding the milk above his head like a weapon.

"Mike, wait!" the intruder exclaims when Mike moves to throw it at the figure.

The carton makes a loud noise as it's thrown against the opposite wall and the contents spills on the floor, completely missing the intended target. Mike takes a step back, feeling on the counters behind him for other things to throw.

"Mike!"

"How do you know my name!?" Mike demands, holding his hand up again (this time occupied by a potato). His chest rises and falls as adrenaline pumps through his body. His eyes become used to the darkness again enough to make out the intruder and his arm goes limp at his side. "Who are you?"

The girl takes a step forward but stops quickly when she notices Mike's arm twitch upwards again. "My name is Tina," she says softly.

"How do you know my name?" Mike repeats.

"It's… complicated."

"It's four in the morning and you've broken into my kitchen. How do you know my name?"

Tina takes a deep breath, clenching her hands out of nervousness so her nails dig into her palms. "I'm like you," she whispers.

Mike swallows around a lump in his throat. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lies.

"How do you think I got here?" Tina challenges.

"By breaking in."

"Not here, _here_," she gestures to herself and the space around her in frustration. "He– _You_ sent me here."

"I can't–"

"Mike you have to trust me, we're running out of time." She half expects Mike to interrupt again but he never does. "There are others and they need our help. You need to find me."

"This is insane–"

"There's no time to explain properly. Your father's business partner is throwing a dinner in a couple of weeks, you must be there."

"What's that got–"

"Mike, you need to find me there and you need to take me with you." She reaches into her pocket and hands Mike a piece of paper with a few names and addresses hurriedly scrawled on. "We need to start with these. They'll help us, too."

"What if you don't listen to me?" Mike asks, holding onto the paper tightly.

Tina purses her lips before reaching around her neck and unclasping a locket, placing it gently in his palm.

"_Amantes sunt amentes_?" Mike asks, reading the engraving on the necklace.

"Lovers are lunatics," she says gently. Mike doesn't stop her when she reaches up, standing on tiptoes, and softly presses her lips against his. Mike can't help as his eyelids flutter shut at the contact. When they pull apart, he opens his eyes and frowns as he looks around the now empty room.

He wakes later in the morning, he wishes he could pass it all off as a dream. The only thing stopping him is the locket and list of names on his bedside table, as well as the puddle of rancid milk his mother makes him clear up.

* * *

><p>The days go past quickly and before he knows it, his parents have dragged him to the Liu's for yet another Asian-based celebratory dinner. He sees her across the room instantly and spends the next few hours plucking up the courage and insanity to go and speak to her. When he finally does, he places the locket back in her hand and watches as her eyes water with wonder. She holds onto his hand tightly and together they sneak out of the house without anyone taking noticing their disappearance. Barely a word is exchanged between them as they set off, hand in hand into the darkness.<p>

* * *

><p><em>AN: Reviews = superpower inducing cookies!_

_Also love._


	11. Mercedes

_A/N: I've been so excited about writing this chapter SHIT GETS REAL. It's 3am and I'm too tired to re-re-edit it right now but I think it's aite. If it's confusing, it's mostly because it's meant to be, not because I'm sleep-deprived._

_Slight warning: interrogation scene._

_Fun fact: I introduce 6 characters in this chapter. MY GOD, I'M EXCITED TO WRITE THE REST OF THIS!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11: Mercedes<strong>

* * *

><p>The room smells strongly of disinfectant and paint; if she didn't know any better, she'd think she was in some kind of medical institution. She does know better. The walls are white and bare; a cheap, uncomfortable looking bed takes up the corner; the bathroom area looks as though it once had a door but had been ripped off its hinges by a previous occupant, now there's simply an empty door frame with a toilet and chipped sink hidden around the corner. The floor is the same concrete as the walls. There are no rugs, nothing of any sort of decoration, no unnecessary furniture such as tables or chairs, nothing that can be removed or used as a weapon of any kind. At closer inspection, she notices the bed has actually been embedded in the concrete. The only source of light is a harsh white bulb encased behind a glass ceiling tile, set on a timer with no switch or plug anywhere in the room. There are no windows and the only door is the heavy metal one, locked and guarded from the outside; on the other side of that door is a hallway with identical doors leading to identical rooms lining either side and curling in a maze across the whole expanse of the underground floor.<p>

Mercedes is lying stiffly on the bed in the corner when she feels the familiar ice-like drip down her spine, rendering her powerless. She doesn't try to escape this time as the door opens loudly and the two people she hates most in the world enter the room.

"You're learning," Jesse drawls when she doesn't make to escape. The door slams behind them, the familiar scraping of the heavy lock being put back in place echoes around the room. "Are you ready to talk to us yet?" he pries.

Sugar leans against the wall smugly, as usual, her eyes fixed intently on Mercedes.

"Thought that was the case," Jesse sighs, feigning disappointment. "We've bought another friend to meet you today. Maybe she'll help loosen your tongue."

He knocks twice sharply on the door, the lock scrapes and the door opens, letting a woman with long blonde hair and thin lips step inside before it's shut and locked once again.

"This is Holly Holliday," Jesse states with an air of showmanship, a grin spreads across his face making Mercedes feel increasingly uneasy. "She's like us, you see. She can… Well, why don't I let her demonstrate?"

Nothing could prepare Mercedes for what happens; no one moves or even speaks but she knows it's because of the new woman. Blinding pain envelopes all her senses and she writes helplessly in the corner of the bed in complete agony. She vaguely hears screams rip themselves from her throat which she has no control over. Her heart constricts, she feels her bones snap, her blood curdle and her head implode. And then it's over. She pants, doubled over, shaking violently. She looks down at her arms with blurry eyes, they're completely fine, no broken bones, no blood.

"Cool, isn't it?" Jesse laughs.

"You're a complete psychopath!" Mercedes spits while trying to steady herself.

Jesse's face hardens coldly. "Tell us what you know."

"I don't know anything!"

"Lies," Sugar accuses in a bored tone.

"Holly," Jesse encourages.

Another stab of pain stretches down Mercedes's whole body and more screams ensue. It's over in a couple of seconds and she slips down onto the floor for more stability, propping herself up against the wall.

"What do you know about Kurt Hummel?" Jesse growls.

"I don't… Please." Mercedes cries.

"Holly!" Jesse orders.

Mercedes shrieks again. The pain barely has time to set in before it's over again, leaving her panting.

"Kurt Hummel! What do you know about him?"

"I haven't spoken to him since a week before you brought me here, you have to believe me!" Mercedes begs, fearing another impending burst of pain.

"Truth," Sugar confirms, seemingly bored with her surroundings as she examines a fingernail.

"What did you talk about?" Jesse urges.

"It wasn't important," Mercedes insists.

"Holly…"

"He was coming to stay with me for a couple of days!" She screams and the pain stops once again. "He knows nothing about me, about _this_. I told him nothing."

"It's not _you_ we care about," Jesse snaps with venom. "So what? You can run faster than Usain Bolt, it doesn't mean anything. The _mind_! The mind is what we care about!"

"Jesse," Sugar warns, taking notice for once. "She doesn't know anything."

Jesse pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Mike Chang. Do you know anything about Mike Chang?"

Mercedes has no time to reply. The room is engulfed in darkness, the floor shakes and sirens sound up from floors below.

"What the hell happened!?" Jesse yells, banging harshly against the door to be let out.

The radio strapped to Jesse's belt crackles. "Rutherford blew! Hold A is down! Need backup!"

A string of profanities leave Jesse's mouth as the door scrapes open. "No funny business, Jones!" He calls behind him as the leave the room.

The door is shut and locked again and Mercedes is left in the darkness on her own as the sirens screech continuously. It couldn't be more of a perfect opportunity to escape but she collapses on the floor, too exhausted to move.

She hears a series of light thuds from the other side of the door before a deafening thump as it's kicked clean off its hinges.

"Jesus Christ, Seb! Careful!"

"I've got it, Joe, I've got it!" She can't make out the figures through the darkness, but one leans down gently towards her. "Mercedes?" he asks. "Mercedes, we're getting you out of here."

"We've got five minutes before they put the power back up!" Joe says urgently. "You're gonna have to carry her, she can barely move after what they did."

She's picked up easily and carried quickly out the door and down the hallway.

"Joe, they're coming from the right."

"On it," Joe confirms, running ahead slightly to get closer to his targets. "Quick, Sebastian! If he comes back it's all for nothing."

Sebastian holds Mercedes tighter and picks up his pace as they round the corner.

"The elevator!" Sebastian orders as Joe makes for the stairs.

"But the power…"

"Elevator."

"This'd better work…" Joe mumbles under his breath, turning back and pressing the button on the wall near where Sebastian had stopped.

Surprisingly, it dings open and they step inside, Sebastian carefully rests Mercedes on the floor before reaching into his pocket and swiping an ID card he stole from a guard.

"Rutherford is good," Joe acknowledges as the doors close and they speed up to the ground floor, breathing a sigh of relief.

* * *

><p><em>AN: REVIEWS ARE CRACK! I like to know whether I dun good. TELL ME I DUN GOOD._

_I need sleep..._


End file.
